


Third Best Skill

by Giveusakiss4132



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Barista Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Everyone Is Gay, Flirting, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Sam Wilson is So Done, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Trash Panda Bucky, cap!steve - Freeform, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 19:17:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13958250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Giveusakiss4132/pseuds/Giveusakiss4132
Summary: Bucky Barnes has the world's worst work ethic. It's a good thing he's so pretty. Featuring dubious sandwiches, no threesomes (sad!) and stolen coffee.





	Third Best Skill

“I feel like you’re being really sanctimonious right now, and no one likes that.” Bucky delicately picked his head up off the counter to glare. By the unimpressed look on Darcy’s awful, smirky face, it wasn’t one of his most intimidating glares. 

“What?!” Darcy practically yelled, making Bucky hide his face against the beautifully cool marble countertop and whimper. 

“Please, please no more. You’re pretty. Your boobs look great. You smell nice. Please stop. I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered as Darcy moved towards the squeaky cabinet. 

Darcy surveyed him for a moment, and stepped away from the squeaky cabinet of pain. “You brought this upon yourself, you know.” She had been smug as fuck ever since she started dating that vegan guy last month, and he roped her into his gross cult of not drinking or doing occasional lines of excellent coke, or eating ribs at 2AM like a normal person. Sure her skin had cleared up and she was going to class and all, but god, at what cost? 

“I know, I’ll do better,” Bucky replied automatically. Darcy ran gentle fingers through his hair for a moment, tugging just enough to focus him. 

“If you can sit up and look less dead, I’ll go restock in the back. We’ve got twenty minutes until Barre class lets out, and you know those skinny bitches need their lattes.” At least she was still fun enough to judge the lululemon mommy crowd that frequented their tiny coffee shop every Monday, Wednesday and Fridays, because ‘supporting small businesses is so important’. 

“Ugh, do you think they’ll notice if I just make a few pitchers of skinny vanilla lattes and set out cups?” Bucky had mixed his drinks last night, and had maybe a few edibles, and he wanted to go back to bed and curl up with his body pillow and listen to his rain machine for the rest of forever. 

“Honey, they only come here so you’ll flirt with them and remind them of their youth. You can set out whatever you want.”

Bucky groaned and heaved himself off his stool, shuffling over to the espresso machine. He held a finger up, and gave his best stern look. “We are gonna make coffee, and we’re gonna do it quietly. We are not gonna break.”

“You tell ‘em, Buck.” Darcy said approvingly before she slipped out the back. 

Bucky set about making a few dozen lattes, setting them up in what could probably be called a line, if one was being generous. He topped the lattes off with a sprinkle of cinnamon, and surveyed his work. “Good job Bucky,” he whispered. It was important to compliment yourself. 

The door jingled, ugh ugh ugh, and in walked two of the hottest, sweatiest men Bucky had ever seen. 

The Lord had felt his pain, and had sent him a gift to help him in his recovery. Amen. 

Bucky popped a mint, smoothed his hair, and did his best to look like he wasn’t suffering. He smiled and everything. 

“Hey fellas,” Bucky bit his lip and tried to decide which one was better. On one hand, god damn look at that smile, with just a little gap between his front teeth and warm brown eyes. And oooh, were those dog tags? Sir yes sir, he did love a soldier. 

On the other hand, blondie had muscles wrapped around other muscles, and could absolutely bench press Bucky into a mattress. He assumed that’s how one did a bench press? Bucky kept fit with a steady diet of ramen, low level drugs, and clubbing. Gym memberships didn’t grow on trees, okay. 

Bucky cocked his head to the side and smiled again. He couldn’t decide. Maybe they were both for him, because he’d been so good. “You boys looking for something hot?” Subtly was for ugly people. 

Hot gap toothed one snorted and shook his head. He looked amused rather than disapproving, which Bucky could work with. He was a funny guy. 

“I think iced would be better, we just finished a run,” blondie said, looking over the menu. 

 

“Yeah? You guys work out hard?” Bucky decided on both of them, and congratulated himself on his decision making skills. 

Tall dark and soldiery snorted a laugh. “Jesus kid, dial it down.” 

“I can’t. I’m terrible.” Bucky thought honesty in a new relationship was very important. That got a deep laugh, which made his belly all shivery, and not even in a throw up all the vodka red bulls from last night kind of way. 

Blondie frowned, and reached out and put a massive paw on Bucky’s shoulder. The guys hands were the size of Bucky’s face, and Bucky couldn’t wait to get them wrapped around his dick… or, ohhh those were long fingers. Yes please. 

“Son, don’t say that about yourself. You’ve got a lot to offer.” This guy was channelling some sort of inspirational Captain America voice on a serious level. 

“I’ll do better,” Bucky replied automatically for the second time today. Hmm. Maybe he should actually do better?

Nah. 

“Very inspiring Steve. You’re about to make this flirty white boy faint though, so pick a drink.” 

“That’s just the hangover,” Bucky didn’t want this Steve guy to feel bad. He stole a muffin from the display case and let the sugar give him a boost while Steve turned all red and mumbled to himself. 

“Uh. Geeze. Um, what do you recomend?” 

“You want something sweet?” Bucky batted his eyelashes. If hot guy that wasn’t Steve didn’t stop snickering, Bucky was downgrading him. 

“Uh, yeah? I like chocolate,” Steve said, still surveying the menu. 

“Me too,” Bucky said and shot hot guy that wasn’t Steve a sultry look. 

“Uh uh. Your high school looking ass better stop making eyes at me right now.” He still seemed amused though. 

“I am absolutely an adult as of two years ago!” Bucky was offended. He was grown! 

“Son, the drinking age is twenty one,” Steve pointed out, frowning. 

“You keep calling me son I’m gonna call you Daddy,” Bucky said sweetly. Ugh, drinking ages. The government shouldn’t control people's bodies like that. 

“Jesus in the manger,” Sam whispered to himself. “I’ll have iced coffee, black, with a shot of vanilla. Steve’s gonna have a raspberry mocha, extra whip, and we’re gonna sit down in the corner and everyone’s gonna behave themselves.” 

“But, Sam-” Steve started, just a little thrown by the whole experience. 

“Uh uh. No. This is not how you wanna end up on the news. Go sit.” Sam pointed to a table in the corner and pulled out his wallet. “We’ll have that entire tray of banana chocolate muffins and no more of your daddy issues. Steve’s old fashioned. Go sit!” He pointed to the corner again. 

“Old fashioned like… dinner first, or old fashioned like ‘fire and brimstone all ye sinners’ old fashioned?” Bucky loved dinner.   
“Old fashioned like you’re cute as hell but you need to behave yourself and make us our drinks old fashioned.” Sam passed him a fifty, and he decided to keep the change because he had perked up from a hangover and didn’t even get a phone number for his troubles. He deliberately put the leftover $20 in his pocket, making eye contact with Sam the whole time. “Your drinks and carbohydrates will be delivered to your table Sir.” Sam stared at Bucky’s pocket. “Please feel free to wait at your table.” Bucky huffed and turned to make the drinks. 

“Fucking unbelievable,” Sam whispered to himself as he made his way to the table. 

Bucky took extra care making their drinks, because he was a professional damnit. He filled up an extra cup with whipped cream for Hot Steve, who didn’t backtalk him like Mean Sam, and kindly sprinkled some chocolate curls on top of both drinks. He carried the muffins, napkins and the drinks over like a pro, because Bucky was graceful, even under hungover pressure. 

“Something sweet fellas,” Bucky cocked his head to the side, cause he knew that made him look cute as fuck. “Let me know if you want anything else,” he smiled extra wide at Steve. Steve was clearly the better choice. Not as sassy. Or as rejection-y.

The door tinkled again and in walked a crowd of twenty lululemon clad stay at home mothers. Bucky spread his arms wide, ready to receive tips. “There’s my beautiful girls!” He waved them all to the long tables he kept clear for them, and started passing out his premade vanilla lattes, getting coos and compliments for his thoughtfulness. By the time he was able to step away from the women, Steve and Sam had demolished the muffins and left. 

Bucky sighed, headache returning. Ugh, they were so cute. His life was so hard. 

 

*****

“Bitch I saw you eat that steak!”

Darcy frantically hushed him, waving her hands in his face and chewing rapidly. She swallowed like a champ and chugged Bucky’s half water, half powerade. Mmm, electrolytes. 

“Shut up! I needed it, it’s shark week. Fucking Scott told me to eat more broccoli, and then tried to massage my vulva like I wasn’t destroying his sheets.” Bucky wrinkled his nose. Vaginas upset him, but he was a feminist, so he voiced his support for period sex, which made Darcy grimace. “Nope. No. Ugh, I just want to bleed in peace, and he’s all over me. I think it’s a fetish.”

Bucky had several fetishes himself, and was always on the lookout for more, but this one was beyond him. The door tinkled, and Bucky sighed. Ugh customers were the worst. He eyed Darcy, who was biting into Bucky’s delicious steak sandwich. She gave him the finger, and since Bucky was a nice friend, he left her to her diet/lifestyle breaking and went to take all the tips for himself. 

It was Hot Steve and Mean but still Hot Sam! Bucky grinned. “Hey fellas!” Bucky beamed, in all his sober not hungover glory. 

“Happy to see us?” Sam laughed.

“There’s not even anything in my pocket,” Bucky teased and it earned him a groan from Sam and a confused puppy look from Hot Steve. Bless him. 

“I’m gonna do an iced chai, and I’ll take a basil chicken panini,” Sam said, still shaking his head. 

“They’re not good,” Bucky shrugged. 

“What’s not good?”

“The chicken sandwiches, they’re soggy and gross and I’m pretty sure the chicken is from that weird butcher shop on 5th where the Russian Mob hangs out.” Bucky shrugged, eyeing the sandwiches on display. “Could be people. I’d stick with our baked goods, those are from Costco.” Bucky made minimum wage. He wasn’t gonna lie for under ten bucks an hour plus tips. 

Steve looked deeply alarmed. “You think that you may be serving human flesh?”

“I mean, I’m not a scientist, but that chicken is chewy af, and there’s an aftertaste… so… maybe?” 

“Bucky, we would like to buy all your meat based products,” Hot Steve said, sounding all official and bossy and hot. 

Bucky shrugged and packed them up. “That’s a choice you’re making.” Bucky collected the hundred from Steve, made change and pocketed it. 

“Um…”

“Have a nice day, come again!” Bucky walked into the back, grabbing a delicious Costco muffin on his way. 

****

The door jingled and Bucky made the decision to not even bother looking up. 

 

He was never, ever doing hallucinogens again. He could taste his brain. 

“Bucky? Are you okay?” It was Hot Steve, but no Hot Sam. Sad. 

“Ugh.” Bucky heaved himself up. “‘Mfine. Coffee?”

“Sure, Buck.” Steve looked even more unsure now that Hot Sam wasn’t around to cockblock. 

Bucky made him a strawberry mocha, shrugged, and took a few sips. Fucking fire him already, he hated everything. Those Costco muffins made him gain six pounds, and now his skinny jeans were fighting with his thighs. 

“Here. It’s good.” Steve took the cup with wide eyes. 

“You… you have a terrible work ethic,” Steve very correctly pointed out. 

“I’m meant to be a trophy wife.”

Steve spluttered a laugh into his cup. 

“Um, you’ll be pleased to know that we tested the meat from the sandwiches. Not uh… not human flesh. Just low quality chicken and a lot of added water.”

Bucky smiled “that’s good, I’ve been taking them home for dinner this whole week.”

Steve started. “You thought they were people!” 

“Eh, I wasn’t sure, and my closet-mate moved out, so rent sucks again.” 

Steve stood there for a long time. “Closet-mate?”

Bucky was tired of standing, so he grabbed Steve’s large hand and towed him to the corner table that got the least amount of light. Ahhh, darkness my old friend. “Yeah, I’m renting a two bedroom with a couple of buddies in Redhook, and I got the room with the walk in closet, and like, bitch how much clothing can one guy own? So I keep my stuff in a few milk crates and I bought an air mattress for the closet and I rent it out. It’s a good deal.” He eyed Steve and took another sip of the strawberry mocha. It was his now, he called it. 

“You looking for a place? $500 and you get your very own room, with a door and bathroom access and I’ll share my hot pockets,” Bucky wouldn’t mind living with Hot Steve. 

“Five hundred dollars for a walk in closet?!”

“Fucking Brooklyn man,” Bucky shrugged. 

“I don’t even know what to say.” Steve tried to steal his drink back, but Bucky hissed and pulled it closer. God, please fire him. If he lost his job, he could move back into his Ma’s place. She’d do his laundry. It would be bliss. 

“I…” Steve was staring at him again. He hoped he at least looked good. “Um,” he tried again, before giving up. “I wanted that coffee,” he sounded a little sullen. 

“The Lord helps those that help themselves,” Bucky took a loud slurp. 

So Steve got up and made himself a coffee behind the bar.

****

“Sam thinks you’re a drug addict,” Steve informed him the following tuesday. 

“Sam’s a little bitch,” Bucky told him brightly, and shook some cinnamon onto Steve’s snickerdoodle latte. “I am a drug fan, at worst. Drugs are expensive, and my closet remains empty.”

Steve snatched his coffee up protectively. “You make really good lattes,” he admitted. 

“It’s my third best skill.”

“What’s your second best skill?”

“Dick sucking.”

Steve coughed up his latte and fled. No one appreciated Bucky’s honesty. 

****

Steve was limping. Steve had a bandage on one big hand, and was sporting some serious bruises on his beautiful face. 

Bucky made him hot chocolate and sat him down. Steve looked bone tired, exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with lack of sleep. So Bucky brought him a cookie, and some hot cocoa, and laid his head on Steve’s shoulder, and didn’t ask any questions. 

Steve held his hand. “I don’t know why I’m here,” he whispered.   
“That’s okay,” Bucky whispered back, and stole some of his cookie. 

****

“What kind of food do you like?” Steve healed fast. Like, freaky fast. 

“I’m not picky,” Bucky shrugged. “I like noodles. I could crush some pad tai right now.”

Steve fiddled with the bottom of his smedium shirt. “Do you… would you…”

“Like to go to dinner with you and then make out in a sketchy alleyway for at least fifteen minutes?”

Steve goggled at him.

“I’d love to. I get off at four. I’ll need at least an hour to do my hair. We can meet at Sweet Basil in SoHo at six. You want a scone? They’re dry.”

“Um yes. To… to the dinner. Not the scone. Um, actually I’ll take the scone too.”

“Cool.” 

****


End file.
